I sing the body electric
by Nova802
Summary: He calls her Berry when he talks to her. Which is not often. She doesn't call him anything. Her voice is caught between "Noah" and "Puck" so she avoids situations where she might have to say his name. Set Post Mash-up
1. Chapter 1

**I sing the body electric**

_But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face,  
It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists,  
It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees, dress does not hide him,  
The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth,  
To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more,  
You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side._

_by Walt Whitman; Leaves of Grass_

He calls her Berry when he talks to her. Which is not often.

She doesn't call him anything. Her voice is caught between "Noah" and "Puck" so she avoids situations where she might have to say his name. This is difficult since they have Glee together several times a week, but of course they weren't friends before, so she doesn't think anyone will notice when her eyes slide over a Noah/Puck shaped hole in the air.

Other times of course, she watches him absently. Watches him watching Quinn. Watches his lips tighten into a hard line, which confuses her because she knows that isn't how she looks at Finn when he slides his arm around Quinn and rests his cheek on her hair. This is such a puzzle that sometimes she forgets to watch Finn watching Quinn. Sometimes she sees this as progress.

She sighs. She is an excellent science student, but the idea of a Quinn-Centric universe seems unnervingly likely.

Very occasionally when she is singing, he (the one who isn't Finn) is watching her, but his expression is unreadable and she always looks away first.

Sometimes, like when their eyes meet over a tray of slushies, she thinks it will be all right--they will become friends, she will be able to look at him and talk to him like she does with Kurt or Artie. To nod, smile casually, make a joke. Or perhaps she can help him with his singing, he's got a great voice, but could work on his range which will only be a benefit to Glee and make them a stronger force at Sectionals. Sometimes, when choreography forces them to touch (she's not sure who is avoiding who) she feels it down to her toes and wonders about her definition of "all right." She also wonders if he feels it too.

It was an extremely sensible decision to break up with him of course. She likes Finn, has liked him from the first day of school when he helped her pick up the books some unknown football player had shoved out of her arms (Who? Mike? Matt? him? She doesn't really want to know). He smiled at her so sweetly. That first smile caught her although she admits to herself that he probably had no idea who she was. And later, when she sang with him she knew. She believes that music is the purest form of language, believes that people can't help but be their truest selves with they sing. She knows Finn can't lie to her when he sings with her, just like she opens up for him. They have a connection.

She doesn't think about the pressure of Noah's arm draped over her shoulders, the spot behind his jawbone and under his ear where his skin is so soft under her lips. She doesn't lie in her bed at night thinking about the ghosts of Noah's kisses on her skin, as warm and insubstantial as sunlight. As it turned out, those kisses weren't really hers anyway. Not that she minds that. Although, apparently without her noticing, he's now "Noah" in her head.

When they kissed--all right, made out--on her bed, she replaced him with Finn, replaced him with someone taller, lankier, with longer hair and softer lips, a softer smile (not tamer, _nicer_ she tells herself). And just then she knew, without a single doubt that he was replacing her too, his mouth was tasting, his hands were burning on the sides of someone blonder, longer, with blue eyes instead of brown: Quinn. She's thrown, not so much by the knowledge (really, she has no moral high ground there) but by the acuity. She's practical, knows her flaws well enough and deep sensitivity to the feelings of others is not one of her many gifts. But she knows this about him now. They have something in common. At the time she does not say that it is a connection.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes at three o'clock in the morning, when she's awake because her head is buzzing with a million unanswered questions she thinks she's done with Finn. Done with the drama, the longing, with always being second best. She feels like she's singing a duet where all the notes are right but one, or all the words are right but in some language she doesn't understand.

Usually, by morning she convinces herself that that's crazy.

"Hey Rachel!" Finn appears at her side as she navigates the halls. He smiles at her with that crooked, goofy smile that made (_makes!_) her tingle and shortens his long strides to match her own. "We sounded pretty tight at practice yesterday."

She smiles up at him, it's nice to see him so happy. "I have to give Mr. Schue credit, despite everything, we've really come together as a group." she says. She walks a little farther, turning to her locker. He stops with her, leans sideways on the locker next to hers.

"...and Rach, that 'Dreamed a Dream' thing you were singing...you sounded amazing!" he says sincerely (she loves his sincerity). He turns slightly, leans towards her just a little and it occurs to her (not for the first time) that while he hasn't done much recently to acknowlege her embarrassingly apparent crush, he doesn't discourage her either. Unexpectedly, she feels a flash of irritation.

When she hears Quinn's voice from the other end of the hall, she almost expects his ears to prick up. And sure enough before she can say a word, he's slipped from her side. This is the routine and usually she tries not to think about it because, honestly, she's cried _enough_, but today she replays the whole scene in her head. It's like pressing a bruise just to see how much it hurts. Curiously, for once, not so much. Something else for her to think about at 3:00 a.m. but for now she feels light, happy, exuberant even.

She slams her locker shut, spins around, and slams straight into him and there is no way to pretend he is just a Noah/Puck shaped hole in the air. Since apparently this is a day for honesty, she admits to herself that she doesn't want to. His hand reaches out to steady her, tightens on her arm and for a moment she allows herself to think how good it felt to be around someone who didn't take a step back when someone else approached in the hallway.

There is a pause and then the moment when they would both have each retreated with a mumbled word comes and goes and still, there they are in the almost empty hallway, inches away from each other, close enough for Rachel to feel the heat of his body through his shirt and hers. Close enough to kiss. _And God!_ He's rubbing his thumb slowly along the inside of her arm. She feels lightheaded, but she can't look away.

Suddenly, raised voices echo from the end of the hallway: Finn and Quinn arguing. At basically any point this fall that would have got her complete attention, but Noah is still touching her and she is trying to concentrate on the essentials--like if her legs will continue to hold her up and what color his eyes are exactly. Which is why she sees Noah, Noah Puckerman, actually **flinch** at the sound of their bickering. She can't begin to understand that, but the moment is gone. He releases her and they both turn together without a word, towards their classes and away from the quarrel. _Friends_, she thinks a little wildly, be friendly!

"So are you going to our concert tonight?" She blurts.

He looks amused. "Not a national merit scholar day, Berry? Yeah, I'm going. I'm _singing_."

"Right...yes...of course...sorry." Why can't she stop babbling? "You're doing your solo. I'm sure you'll be great. Well, here's my classroom. See you tonight. At the concert, of course."

She darts into the classroom and sinks into her chair, blushing. Of course. Something else very high on the list of things she has not been looking forward to: Noah's solo.

Because she actually spends a ridiculous amount of time thinking about him singing "Sweet Caroline" to her, not caring that everyone in the room knew who he was singing to. Singing like he was just a boy and she was just a girl he that he liked. Making her believe for what, three or four days? a week? that is was just about them, not always, endlessly, about them and the other two (three). She is **always **busy (in the bathroom, making notations on her sheet music, going over choreography with Kurt, whatever) whenever he practices that song. Because she knows that if she looks up and makes eye contact with him, she will KILL him if he is singing that song to Quinn Fabray.

She puts one hand to her upper arm, holding in the warmth where he touched. She can still feel him. In her head she's saying (she _really_ hopes she not saying it out loud) 'Ohhhh no... no...no...no...no...damn..._yes_.' She wants him back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! I always forget to say this, but Glee doesn't belong to me. sadly.**

Puck watches as Rachel disappears through her classroom door. God she's adorable when she's flustered, he thinks, and then: fuck, I'm turning into a girl...or possibly Kurt. Mmmmm. Better to think about her eyes widening when he touched her, the way her breath came a little quicker, the way she didn't pull away and go running after Finn. All he had wanted to do was to find some secluded spot (hell, he's Puck, he knows three places on that floor alone) and bury his hands in her hair and...no. He has to stop this. For one thing, he's standing in the hallway with a stupid look on his face. And for another, Rachel is strictly off limits.

He makes his way through the halls and arrives at class, flopping into his seat. He's late, but Finn's seat directly in front of his is still empty and he keeps one wary eye on the doorway, wondering if Quinn's fractured fairy tale has finally blown up in her face. His face too. But no, here comes Finn and judging by the fact that he isn't trying to break Puck's nose, his best friend apparently still believes you can get your girlfriend pregnant in a hot tub. While wearing a swimsuit.

Finn swivels in his seat and Puck can see he wants to talk. Shit, he wishes Finn would talk to Ms. Pillsbury, get a diary, call Oprah, _anything_. He'd pretend to be busy with classwork, but not even Finn would buy that.

"Do you think pregnancy makes girls crazy?" Finn whispers.

"Dude, how the hell would I know?"

It's just...Quinn, she's really pissed. She thinks I'm...I dunno, too friendly with Rachel."

He really should keep his mouth shut. "Yeah, Hudson, why would Quinn think that? I mean you talk all day about how talented she is, hang out at her locker, sing ballads to her left eyebrow..."

Finn's eyes narrow. "You seemed to like her well enough."

Puck shrugs, "I just wanted to see what she wore under those tiny skirts." At last, that does it. Finn glares at him and turns around.

Rachel. Basically, he had fucked up any chance he had with Berry weeks before he even knew he wanted her. Puck knows the part he's playing here. He's the bully with the slushies, he's the asshole who slept with his best friend's girlfriend. He doesn't deserve the happy ending because he's the villain, not the hero. But at least he can pretend to be the hero. Things are going to get ugly and the best thing he can do is just leave Rachel the fuck alone.

If only it were so easy to stop thinking about her. Like a sick little video in his head, he replays their moment in the bathroom after he's been on the receiving end of a slushie. Rachel touching him so gently, he wants to die. Because why the hell would she forgive a prick like him? And then she does and it's like the best feeling on earth, because if she can forgive that, maybe she'll understand about the kid he put in Quinn's belly. So of course, because he's a fuck-up, he has to push it.

When he tells her he's choosing football over Glee, he wants her to rage, to argue, to persuade him, _to want him_. Hell, he's seen her fight with Kurt for forty-five minutes over three fucking steps in a dance routine. There's one thing he knows: Rachel always gets what she wants. So when she walks out the door as quietly and simply as a leaf falling from a tree, he should have known right then what it took him another day to figure out. She doesn't want him.


	4. Chapter 4

She walks out of the changing room after their show and suddenly realizes that she's tired of passivity, of following someone else's script. It occurs to her that going after _this_ (whatever this is) is not very different from going after whatever else she's ever wanted (blocked toe shoes, a coveted solo, front row tickets to South Pacific for her 7th birthday). She's not going to get it by sitting around and _wishing_.

Everyone is gathered in the practice room, still on a little bit of a performance high, laughing and chatting with friends and family. He, of course, is alone near the door. She walks straight up to him, stops in front of him. He's closing the latches on his guitar case, pulling a sweatshirt over his head, ignoring her. She wonders if he sees a Rachel-shaped hole in the air, but she just waits.

"What's up, Berry?" he says finally.

"I need a ride home" she says simply.

His expression is unreadable. "Why aren't your daddies here to bring you home and make you hot cocoa and tuck you in?" he asks.

"Well as you know they usually attend every performance..." she starts in a rush.

"With camcorder in hand..." he interrupts.

"Anyway..." she says, giving him a dirty look, "They both had previous commitments that they couldn't break. Really, I appreciate Mr. Schue giving us an opportunity to rehearse a few of our set pieces in front of an audience, but the impromptu nature of this occasion makes scheduling difficult. Ms. Pillsbury was supposed to give me a ride home but..."

"But Brad Meyer sneezed on her during our curtain call and she's probably in the decontamination shower in the science wing for the rest of the night."

"Exactly." she says.

"Mr. Schue ..." he offers, looking around for the Glee coach.

"Went racing after her and is probably IN the decontamination shower with her right now."

He laughs and smiles at her in the way that makes her stomach turn over (mostly in a nice way). She ignores the fact that Quinn and Finn's eyes are burning into her back.

He's still smiling a little bit as he goes to push through the door. "All right Berry, let's go."

They walk through the parking lot silently, close but not touching, not looking at one another. Rachel is at a standstill. Having taken the first step (being in the same general area as Noah) she's not sure what to do next. It would help if she knew what she wanted. Because, as epiphanies go, "him" is terribly non-specific. Does she want to make out? Does she want him to be her boyfriend? Does she want him to fall on one knee and assure her that he's not in love with Quinn Fabray? Is it sensible or selfish to want all three?

As they reach his truck he throws his gear in the back and unlocks the passenger door. Their bodies brush slightly as she moves past him to get in and she shivers. He doesn't comment, but cranks up the heat when he starts the truck. She's glad she doesn't have to give directions, is able to just sit back and watch him a little bit through the corner of her eye as the flicker of headlights from oncoming cars briefly advance then retreat across his face. He looks tired. As he pulls to the curb and shifts into park, she's suddenly shy. "Thanks. You sang really well tonight. " she says briefly, turning away from him, reaching for the door handle.

"Wait." he leans over towards her, circles her wrist lightly with his fingers. She's still turned away and she closes her eyes for a second, pulse racing, almost dizzy. God, what is wrong with her? At this rate, if he ever touches a part of her body that is not her arm, she may spontaneously combust. But when she opens her eyes, turns around, the look in his eyes makes her breath stop for a second. Right now, it's just about the two of them--she's only seeing him and he's only seeing her and everyone else is a thousand miles away.

So she just melts into him.

His arms come around her, pressing her closer and his tongue is teasing at her lips so she opens her mouth and sure enough: combustion. The angle is a little awkward--she's still not close enough she thinks hazily, but thinking is really not what this moment is about. He moves his hands down to her hips and then he pivots and slides her over his legs so that she's straddling him; all she can do is give a little moan of approval into his mouth. His hands leave her hips, one sliding up into her hair, the other travelling down, brushing the skin of her thigh at the hem of her skirt. Her lips pull away from his to find the sensitive spot just behind his ear, and then she kisses her way down his neck, smiling against his skin at his quick intake of air. Her hands dip under his sweatshirt, his t-shirt, and she runs her fingers lightly along his muscled sides. His lips are against her hair and she almost feels rather than hears him breathe her name. He uses the hand still tangled in her hair to gently bring her mouth back to his, his other hand moving further up her leg. She's forgotten everything. She's burning.

When her phone rings, they both jump apart as if a shot had been fired. Rachel imagines that this is what it feels like to hit the ground after you've been thrown out a window. For a moment, the truck is filled with the sound of their breathing. Rachel turns, fishes her phone out of her bag with a shaking hand and answers.

"Mr. Schue...Hi...Yes, I got a ride home. No, I'm fine. Absolutely sure. I hope Ms. Pillsbury feels better soon. O.K. see you at Glee."

Sliding the phone back into her bag, Rachel glances over at him. He's looking straight ahead, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other running nervously across his scalp. He's a thousand miles away.

"Shit." he says, maybe not to her, maybe to something off in that distance.

Still. As a performance review, that wasn't really what she was looking for.

So for the second time, she grabs her stuff and reaches for the door handle and for the second time he reaches out for her, but breaking his grip is as easy as breaking a link in a chain--even if it does make her feel sick.

She lets herself in with her key and sinks against the door, squeezing her eyes tight against tears. One minute, two minutes, five. Finally, she hears the sound of his truck start up and slowly drive off into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: So I dropped my papers all over yesterday and let out a curse word--which is totally atypical for me--and as I looked at my surprised colleagues all I could think was "Fuck, I've been writing too much Puck!"**

He's sitting in his truck alone (again) waiting for his heart-beat to slow, waiting until he can't taste her, waiting until he can't feel her moving against him. He'd wait until he can't see the hurt look in her eyes, or feel her pull away from him, but he doesn't think he has that much time.

Eight hours ago he promises himself he'll leave her alone (for her own good right?). One hour ago he pours all his feelings out into a song for a girl he's doesn't dare to look at and then grits his teeth as he watches her sing to his best friend. Half an hour ago, she asks him for a ride and it's all he can do not to grin like an idiot. Ten minutes ago he's not thinking at all because she's kissing him, touching him; she wants him and God knows he wants her and the moment is perfect. Five minutes ago her phone rings and he thinking again, mostly about how he wants to drag her inside her empty house and see if he can get her to moan _his_ name. Because she's Rachel, she's sweet and funny and insanely stubborn and _fucking hot _(and since when did fucking hot come last on his list of adjectives?). Leave her alone? Why the hell would he even want to?

It hits him like a punch.

He's not a thousand miles away. Maybe two miles away, maybe three months ago with a different girl (and different is not necessarily better or even better at all). At a party, half drunk, all stupid. Sex without love is his norm, but what kind of person, he thinks bitterly, fucks someone they don't even _like_? Although that isn't entirely accurate. It might be closest to say that he recognizes something in Quinn. She's got pain in her life, and so does he and that night they are both seeking consolation and escape. And it's over quickly and she cries and he feels like an asshole and is willing enough to forget the way they used each other for a little while. Until that becomes impossible.

"Shit," he says and the sound of his own voice brings him back to the present. Fuck. He said it out loud. The look on Rachel's face hurts him and he wants to kiss away her pain but she's gone too quickly. He'd chase after her (Puck never chases after girls, but apparently Noah does...) but what the hell would he say? Screw it, he thinks, he'll figure some way to make it up to her tomorrow. Maybe even apologize. She's totally worth it.

But it's not so easy finding Rachel at school the next day. She's not in the practice room and Puck can't believe it because she haunts that stupid place. He spends as much time in the corridor by her locker as he can without feeling like a stalkerish perv. She's not at lunch and as he glares at her empty seat, he almost enlists the help of the Gleek intelligence service, but can't quite bring himself to do it. Kurt's already looking at him funny. She's late for Glee (and she's _never_ late for Glee). Her cheeks are pink like she's been running and he spends most of rehearsal missing his cues because he's trying to catch her eye. She misses a few cues herself and her cheeks stay pink, but she won't look at him. The football players have to leave early for practice, (which she _absolutely_ knows) and as they walk out, he hangs back a little, grabs Mike's arm because he's the most gullible.

"Tell coach I can't come, I've got an...appointment."

"Sure, Man."

Two doors down he waits just inside an empty classroom. He may be a stalkerish perv, but he's the stalkerish perv who's going to get the girl.

Practice over, Mr. Schue and the Gleeks trail out. No Rachel. He slips back into the practice room, leaning against the door. She's turned away from him, making one last notation on her score.

"Hey Rach," he purrs. Those pink cheeks were **so **not from running.

"Noah!" she squeaks, dropping her papers. She pauses and then adds casually, "I thought you had football." Without waiting for an answer, she bends down to gather her papers.

He crosses the room to her, bends down next her and grabs the last paper. As they both rise, she reaches for it without looking at him, but he doesn't let go. He wants her to look up at him, but when she does it's almost too much because he's locked into her eyes and she's so close and she smells so good and suddenly he can't bear the thought that he isn't touching her. He tugs the paper gently, pulling her towards him, just a fraction. She's breathing a little faster and that would be amusing, only he notices that he's having some problems breathing evenly himself.

"Why are you here, Noah?" she whispers.

Damn. She's starting with the hard questions. "Why are you avoiding me?" he shoots back.

She looks down. "I'm not avoiding you."

"Bullshit Rachel. I got more face time with you when I was dousing you with slushies than I did today." Uh-oh. Probably not a good idea to bring up the slushies.

She looks at him and her eyes narrow a little bit. Definitely a bad idea to bring up the slushies.

"Again, Noah, why are you here? Because I thought last night really solidified my grasp on the nature of our relationship. I'm sorry to be so slow, obviously years of abuse weren't enough to get the message through. You are clearly horrified by me. I sincerely regret any embarrassment I may have caused you, although honestly, it beggars the imagination to comprehend how you could be more embarrassed than I am..."

She's starting to gesture and her voice is getting louder and she doesn't look very happy and crap, he really shouldn't have let her get started. He'd like to kiss her because for one, it would get her to shut up and for two, even though she's glaring at him, she's kind of turning him on. So he leans in and kisses her briefly. She still looks pissed, so clearly further measures are necessary. He sinks down to the floor with her and pulls her into his lap and he smiles because he's shocked her into silence and he can almost see the wheels turning in her head.

He presses his forehead to hers and says softly, "I'm not horrified by you." He pulls back just enough to see a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and when her hands slide to his waist it gives him a jolt. He kisses her again, lightly on the lips and then kisses a trail to her ear. "I think you're sexy..." he whispers and then kisses his way down to where her neck and shoulder meet, "and beautiful..." He bites down gently and then soothes the spot with his tongue. She whimpers and he almost does as well, because she's got her hands under his shirt again and honestly does she _know_ what that does to him? Actually, she should, given where she's sitting, he thinks and shifts uncomfortably. His lips continue on a path to where her blouse is buttoned and he presses a quick kiss to the exposed skin before tickling her sides and smiling at her. "And bossy..." She wrinkles her nose at him and delicately bites his bottom lip.

Suddenly he feels happy. Ridiculously happy. Happy like a little kid on his birthday. Happy like the first day of summer vacation happy. Naturally, he's terrified, so he wraps his arms around her tight and buries his face into her hair. "And mine..." he says quietly. For now, it's enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews!** **I really appreciate all the encouragement!**

Rachel decides that long, slow, wet kisses run a very close second to singing. That's the last thing she thinks about for a while.

Finally, he groans and gently pushes her off his lap, his eyes bright and his face flushed. Hmmmm, she thinks and files that thought away for later. He leans towards her and buries his face in her neck, not kissing any more, just breathing. She never wants to move again, she's not even sure if she can and for a moment she's perfectly content. A glance, however, at the practice room clock throws her into panic mode. She yelps, and leaps to her feet, frantically throwing stuff in her bag. Looking back, she sees him still on the floor, sprawled out, looking stunned.

"It's my dad," she gasps, "he's been in the parking lot waiting for me for thirty-five minutes!"

He looks...does he look relieved?, she wonders, but then he smirks up at her and she has to laugh. He stands as she grabs her bag and coat. A little self-consciously, she places a hand on his chest and reaches up to kiss him quickly.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she says, the words a question. He nods and she whirls around but stops short when he takes her hand.

"Rach..., " he says, then pauses. She waits. He clears his throat and says tightly, "Don't hide."

She's still holding his hand, still meeting his gaze. This time, she nods and without another word, turns and runs.

That night, she sleeps surprisingly well.

Morning, of course, brings its own worries. Rachel bites her lip nervously as she walks up the front steps of McKinley High, carefully scanning the crowd. Students are filtering in, laughing and chatting about weekend plans and she looks around for Mercedes or Tina; even seeing Brittney would be a comfort, but she doesn't spot them in the mass of people. She only has a few minutes to get to her locker before first bell--she took a great deal of trouble with her appearance this morning because she likes to look her best. If she is also wearing the skirt that makes his eyes glaze over--well, it was freshly laundered.

She's weaving between students and she can't find Artie or Kurt either, which is a shame. She wants to discuss a variety of Glee related topics with them. She can't think of any right now, but she's sure there must be many. For example, she'd like to ask why a few kisses (all right, more than a few really lingering, excellent kisses) in the practice room that she's been in a million times make her feel like she's going to ignite even hours later. Or perhaps not. Artie would just raise an eyebrow, but Kurt would let out a shriek that is probably only audible to dogs.

Staring blankly at her locker, it's an actual effort to determine which books she will need for her morning classes. She shakes her head to clear away the fog, smiles absently at Finn who is at his own locker and heads to homeroom. Fine. She'll admit to it. It's Noah she wants to see--she just wishes she knew what his reaction will be when she does. Anything from ignoring her completely to pinning her up against a locker and kissing her senseless seems possible. And then as she turns the corner there's suddenly something like excitement or dread in the pit of her stomach because he's at the end of the corridor talking with Mike and Matt and a few other football players she doesn't recognize. He's half turned away and she pauses, appreciating the line of his back and shoulders. He turns, restlessly, as if he could feel her watching him and their eyes meet. His smile is...well, just _dangerous_ and as he stalks towards her, her knees almost buckle because the kissing her senseless scenario is seeming increasingly likely.

She can't take her eyes off him. Which is why it is such a surprise when someone comes up from behind her and wraps an arm around her shoulders. Finn.

"Hey, Rach! I just wanted to check in with you. I was worried about you yesterday in Glee because you seemed kind of distracted. And this morning, too." He smiles such with obvious sincerity that she'd smile back, except he's moved around to the front of her and she can't see Noah.

"Finn...yes...or rather no, I'm just fine." Damn. Where is he?

Finn looks at her doubtfully. "Well, do you want to meet before practice today, so we can go over the steps again? I mean, usually I'm the one who messes up. Not that you messed up or anything."

She's saved from replying by a cool, "She can't Hudson, we're working on something." Noah is standing casually next to her and she can't read his face, but is that...? Yes it is. His hand is on her ass.

Her voice is a little squeaky, but she manages to say brightly, "Thanks, anyway, Finn." She moves one hand behind her back to swat at his hand. He obligingly slides it to where her skirt and blouse meet and dips the tips of his fingers into her waistband. She wishes she were leaning on something solid, like a locker...or him.

Finn looks suspiciously from one of them to the other, and there is an awkward moment when it looks like Noah and Finn are going to start glaring at each other--or worse. The bell rings and no one moves. Rachel sighs inwardly. Luckily, she's a good director.

"Finn, I believe your homeroom is that way," She points. "Noah, we're both in that direction." She turns on her heel and starts walking. She's halfway down the hall before he catches up with her, slowing his steps to match hers. She looks at him, but he's looking down, a little frown between his eyes. They're going to have to deal with that at some point--the whole Puck and Quinn and Finn and Rachel thing, or they'll just end up breaking up again. But right now she wants to make him smile. So she says the first thing she can think of.

"So...uhmmm. Noah. Are we dating again?"

It works. He looks amused. "I would hope so, Berry. Do you think that I'm the kind of guy you can just fool around with whenever you feel like it?"

Oh, that was too easy. "Well, actually, I kind of do think that."

Now he's grinning. "You're so right."

She grabs his hand and pulls him around the corner--the hallway is empty. Standing on her toes to reach her arms around his neck, she presses herself into him, kisses him. He skims his hands down her sides to settle on her waist and she feels warmth starting at her lips travelling down to her toes. She hears a classroom door opening behind him, but instead of letting go, he tightens his grip and deepens the kiss just for a moment. They break apart, but only a few inches and one of his hands traces lazy circles on her back.

She peeks around him to see Mercedes and Kurt just outside the doorway, closely followed by Artie and Tina.

"W..Wow," giggles Tina. Kurt rolls his eyes to the others and says, "See, I told you they were back on."


	7. Chapter 7

"You know Berry, when I said we needed to meet early because we were _working_ on something, this isn't what I meant, " he growls.

"Please, Noah? Just one more time?" She looks at him appealingly.

He melts a little bit. Fuck. They've been dating again for what, about two minutes, and he's already whipped. But there is **no** way he can let this slide because, A: he'll never be able to call his life his own again (that's a BAD thing, Puckerman!) and B: it's just too horrifying to contemplate.

"No," he says firmly. "No, absolutely not. No more Christina Aguilera."

She pouts. "You played it before..."

He smirks. "That's before I found out how easy you were."

She smacks him on the arm, but she's still sitting on his knee, so he knows she's not too offended. She leans over and whispers in his ear, "Noah, I don't think you've found out exactly how easy I can be."

He pretends to think for a minute and then picks up his guitar. "Christina Aguilera it is."

They're about halfway through the last chorus when Quinn, Santana and Brittney walk in and he doesn't stop playing. He's not a pussy and besides Quinn and Santana are both glaring at him, which is funny. Mostly. Truth be told, Santana is pretty forgettable, but Quinn is another story. There's living proof of that connection. Whether or not the truth ever comes out, whether or not Quinn gives up the baby, whether or not, god forbid, they get married and live in fucking misery forever, they're linked.

He puts down his guitar and hugs Rachel tightly. She looks at him curiously, but hugs him back and he smiles at her with relief. All the reasons why he should have left her alone--not the least of which is the question of Finn--still exist. But he'd called her "mine" last night and he's keeping her for as long as he can. Something is bound to break his way.

He gets through Glee by focusing on the spot where the hem of her skirt meets her legs whenever she has a duet with Finn. He knows he's a pig, but he doesn't think she'd like any of his other choices for dealing with the situation. Also, he smiles to himself, _he's_ the one driving her home and they're hanging out before he has to head back for the game. As soon as Mr. Schue calls it a wrap, he's rushing her out the door. No sense in letting Finn or Quinn get to her. Not to mention the Gleeks. There had been _a lot_ of giggling at lunch when he sat down next to her.

His heart sinks a little when he sees the cars in the driveway. He hadn't met her dads the last go around and fathers in general don't like him, but Rachel apparently feels no hesitation. She grabs his hand and bounces into the house and she's beaming when she introduces Daddy Ben and Dad Michael. They're friendly, but not warm and he guesses that his chances of hanging out in her bedroom are pretty much non-existent. She kisses him before running upstairs to change and the temperature in the room drops a few degrees, so he's relieved when they leave him alone in the den. Classy: nice furniture, art on the walls, big screen t.v. mounted opposite the couch.

He shrugs, feeling a little out-of-place and turns to inspect the photographs on the bookshelves. As expected, the visual evidence of about a million recitals and her mega-watt smile in every one of them. One stands out though: Rachel, maybe eleven, swimming in a Red Sox jersey and cap. Her fathers have their arms around her and in the background he sees the sign, FENWAY PARK. He jumps when she appears next to him and slides her hand into his.

"You've been to Fenway Park?" He can't keep the surprise out of his voice. "No, wait, you've been to a _baseball_ game?"

She tilts her head at the picture. "Game two of the 2004 World Series. Schilling pitched. Daddy's from Boston and my uncle has season tickets so we go a few times a year."

"No shit! Did you know the Sox play 'Sweet Caroline' in the middle of the 8th inning for the home games?" Smarten up, Puckerman, of course she knows that. He blames his current mindless state on her outfit. He'd thought he was going to miss the skirt when she went upstairs to change (he _loves_ that skirt) but those jeans look like they've been painted on her and the simple white tee hugs her curves in all the right places.

She smiles and laughs, "I know...it's one of the reasons why I loved it when you sang it."

Oh yeah, **now** we're getting somewhere, he thinks. "One of the reasons, Rach?" he says in a low voice, taking a step towards her. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't back up either. Oh fuck, she's staring at his mouth.

"Mmmmm," she says, dreamily.

"What were some of the other reasons, Rachel?" he says, reaching out a hand and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. It feels so good that he brings his other hand up and cups her face, tilting it gently up towards him. She looks straight at him and he thinks he's going to drown in her eyes.

"You were singing to me," she says softly, "just me. That's when I knew..."

He's going to die right now. "Knew what, Rachel?" he whispers hoarsely.

"That...that you could be special. That you could be mine."

And that's all it takes. Before he knows what he's done, he's picked her up and laid her on the couch and he's lost for sure because she's completely pressed against him and he knows he's barely under control as he plunders her mouth. She moves against the thigh that's wedged between her legs and he moans, then moves his hand under her shirt, brushing her soft skin, daring to cup her breast, wringing out soft cries in return. Sanity is somewhere screaming in his ear, but he can barely hear it.

Dads. Fathers. Her fathers are in the house. He's about a second away from ripping both their clothes off and her fathers are in the house. He couldn't pull away quickly if his life depended on it--although if her dads walk in right now, it just might. But slowly, by degrees, he's able to make a little space between them. Her lips are red from kissing and her hair is mussed and she's absolutely the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and...fuck...he totally doesn't deserve her because even an idiot like him can see what's in her eyes. She trusts him.

Sighing, he sits up, pulls her next to him and tucks her under his arm. Sanity sucks. Also, strangely, it beeps. No wait, that's his phone, and he thinks somehow it's been beeping for a while. More as a way to clear his head than from any inclination to deal with the outside world, he flips open his phone. _Shit...shit...shit...fucking shit_. Three texts from Quinn in the last five minutes. He glances at Rachel, but she's not looking at him. He opens the last one.

**EMERGENCY: BABY**

Suddenly his head feels like it's going to explode. He has to go right now. He wants to stay and explain this to Rachel. Needs to tell her the truth. But he can't--this is not a 30 second conversation and he has to go now.

"Rach. It's an emergency. I'm not sure if I'll be at the game. I'll come see you tomorrow." He kisses her once, hard, trying to ignore the confusion in her eyes and the way her lips are pressed together in a tight line. He's out the door, trying to text **W R U?** and start his truck at the same time. He speeds in the direction of the hospital, hoping that there aren't any cops around when the next text arrives: **HOME**.

OK. His hands are trembling on the steering wheel. Not at the hospital. Not bleeding his daughter's life away.

He pulls into Quinn's driveway, she's sitting on the porch and he's out of his truck and up the steps in a second.

"What's the hell's wrong, Quinn?" He's almost shouting.

She shrugs, says nothing. Then coolly, "How was your date?"

The world stops.

"That's what this is about?" His voice is soft, but she's still flinching away, "Just whistling to see if you can bring me to heel?"

He waits. Her eyes are bright with anger and tears, but again: nothing. And maybe there's nothing for her to say. He continues flatly, "This conversation isn't over, Quinn." He doesn't trust himself to say more.

As he gets back in his truck, a cold wave of fury washes over him. He can't go back to Rachel's like this. Thank fuck there's football tonight. He really needs to hit something.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Proofed this during the "Wheels" commercial breaks. So very clearly do not own Glee. Thanks for the reviews!**

It's Saturday afternoon and Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Artie are on her doorstep. Mercedes and Tina are carrying pints of ice-cream and chocolate sauce. Kurt is waving a DVD copy of Titanic. Oh for crying out loud! Does Artie really have a box of tissues on his lap? These people, _her_ _friends_, she realizes with sudden gratitude, are here to make her feel better. Which means that they are either psychic, or the entire school knows that Noah Puckerman has...what? Dumped her probably. For (and how predictable was this?) Quinn Fabray. She opens the door with a shaky smile and lets them in.

They consume the ice-cream, sing along with Celine (Kurt insists), and hand her tissues when Jack dies (because really, that's so sad). As the final notes play and the credits roll, she thanks them shyly.

They exchange glances and eventually Kurt says, "Sweetie, we don't want to be gossip-whores, but really, wouldn't it be better to talk about it?"

She looks down at her hands. "Was he at the game last night?"

"Uhhhmm. He was for a while. Which is why we're here, just in case you were wondering..."

Rachel looks up, startled. "What do you mean, for a while? What happened?"

"Well, your loverboy--you know, the smoking hot one with the _really_ good arms...," here Kurt drifts off a bit until Artie smacks him on the back of the head. "Ouch!" he says, glaring. "Fine! **Puck** showed up for pre-game in a truly foul mood. And just to let you know, our heroic quarterback was giddy with excitement over that little development."

Mercedes snorts and Tina rolls her eyes.

"Who is telling the story here ladies?" Kurt continues, "So anyway, when the game started, Puck scored in the first three minutes, largely by running over about five Kennedy players."

"I think he swerved to hit that last guy," Artie notes. "You know, the one that didn't get up."

"He'll be fine, " waves Kurt dismissively, "He eventually walked off the field. I, with thanks to Saint Beyonce, scored the extra point. But on our next possession, a Kennedy player made the mistake of applying a late tackle to Mr. Sweetness and Light, and he kind of...went postal. The guy must have outweighed him by 50 pounds, however Puck was well on his way to beating the crap out of him before they were pulled apart. Luckily the referees missed most of it, but Puck was tossed from the game and no one's seen him since."

Rachel's hand went instinctively to her phone. She had to know if he was all right, what had happened when he left to hurt him or anger him. And that's the thought that froze her in place. Because quite possibly, she didn't want to know. Which was why her phone was turned off and upstairs in a drawer.

"So girl, time to talk," says Kurt gently, "because last we saw, your man was rushing you away and looking at you like you were..."

"D..Dessert!" interrupts Tina.

"And it was nice to see you looking so happy, Rachel," says Artie.

"_And_ less crazy...so what happened?" says Mercedes.

Rachel lets out a breath. She needs to talk to someone and these are her friends. She tells them more or less what happened after they'd left Glee (mostly less, but her cheeks are still burning) and ends with Noah checking his phone, the text and his abrupt departure.

"What did it say?" Kurt asks.

"I didn't see that. Just...just that it was from Quinn."

No one speaks. Finally, from Artie, "Yeah, there's something_ off_ with them, isn't there?" He hands Rachel another tissue.

"Maybe so," says Mercedes, "and don't get me wrong, we may want to kick his ass into next week, but that boy is _into_ you." Tina nods in agreement.

"You two _are_ sickeningly perfect for each other," shrugs Kurt, "because, let's face it Miss Diva, there's not another man at McKinley and possibly the state of Ohio who could keep up with you."

They all jump when the doorbell rings and although she wants to kick herself for it, Rachel can't help feeling hopeful Just because she's been hiding in her room all day with the shades pulled down and the phone off doesn't mean that she doesn't want to see him. They all pile into the hallway to answer the door. It's Finn. Rachel cranes her neck to look for Quinn (because at this point who knows) but he's alone.

He stands awkwardly on the doorstep. "Hey Rachel, hey guys. What are you doing here?"

"Movie night." Rachel says shortly, trying to bury her disappointment. "What can I do for you, Finn?" The rest of the Gleeks are ranged behind her, staring.

Finn looks uncomfortable. "Rachel, can I speak with you alone?"

Rachel sighs inwardly, looks back and asks, "Can you give us a minute?" They retreat back into the house and close the door, but a series of suspicious scuffling thumps against the door follow.

The sun is starting to go down and it's getting cold. Rachel wraps her arms around herself as she sits on the doorstep. At one time, she might have hoped that Finn would put an arm around her. Now she just wanted to go inside. "Why are you here, Finn?" she asks quietly.

Finn flops down next to her. "I...I don't know. I guess I wanted to make sure you were o.k. I mean it was pretty obvious that things with Puck..."

"I'm not going to discuss Noah with you." Rachel cuts him off.

Finn looks confused and a little irritated. "Why do you even call him Noah? I mean, he's always been a jerk to you. I'm just trying to look out for you Rachel."

She looks up at him, features so familiar, the object of a million daydreams, and a strange happiness floods through her. Now she knows absolutely for certain and it's like being cured of a disease that she didn't even know she had. She is **so** completely over Finn Hudson.

She smiles brilliantly up at him. "Looking out for me, Finn? Really? Was it looking out for me when you used my feelings against me to get me to rejoin Glee? I forgave you, but really, who does that? And you keep doing it! Every time I take a step away, you pull me right back in, just like you're doing now..."

The shock on his face is almost like a slap, but she's on a roll now.

"You say you're my friend, Finn. Is this friendly? You don't want me, but you sure as hell don't want anyone else to have me, so what kind of friend are you?"

He reaches out a hand to her, but lets it fall without touching her. "Rach, I'm...I'm sorry."

And he does look sorry and a little lost and Rachel softens towards him just a little. "Glee is important to me. You are important to me because you're my teammate. I feel confident that we can develop a real friendship at some point. But you should go home now."

Finn stands quickly, hands in his pockets. He doesn't look at her. "Yeah, I should." he says. And then he's gone.

Rachel stands slowly, closes her eyes and leans against the door, ignoring the muffled shrieks from inside. The exhilaration is beginning to fade and she's feeling the cold again, but she's not ready to move, wants to keep this moment of certainty for a little longer, not at all sure what the next moment will bring. Without opening her eyes she says with all the serenity she can muster, "Hello, Noah."


	9. Chapter 9

"Hello, Noah," her voice floats out to him.

Fuck. Why is he lurking _again_? He might as well start working the jewfro and set up a blog. He takes a step out of the shadows into her sight line. "How did you know..." he starts but his voice sounds rusty and he stops.

Her lips barely turn up at the corners. "I usually know when you're around. Let's just call it the effect of two years of slushies and leave it at that."

Double fuck.

Suddenly the door is yanked open and he takes a quick step forward, because Rachel nearly falls in but quick hands steady her and suddenly everything is noise and excitement. Tina and Mercedes are both jumping up and down and hugging her and behind them he can see Kurt looking smug and Artie laughing. "Girl, that was about damn time!" yells Mercedes. "Epic!" adds Tina.

Rachel is looking back at them, flushed but happy, a real smile on her face and it sucks when she looks back at him and the smile fades. The rest of their eyes follow her gaze and for at least a minute no one seems to have anything to say. Tina, of all people, breaks the silence. "Hi P...puck. Nice game." His hand involuntarily moves to his bruised ribs and he glares, but without much heat and the Gleeks try to pretend they aren't laughing. Only Rachel appears unmoved, looking down at her feet.

"Well, look at the time," Kurt chirps as he kisses Rachel's cheek. "We'll just be on our way!" They maneuver Artie's wheelchair down the steps deftly. As they head down the walk to his van, Artie runs over his toes. Puck thinks it's on purpose and then he knows it is because Kurt is glaring at him with an expression that can only be called fierce. "Fix this, Puckerman!" he hisses and then he and Rachel are alone.

Puck _knows_ he doesn't know shit about feelings. But it doesn't take a genius to realize that Rachel is pissed. And rightly so, he admits, considering the way he'd rushed out of the house yesterday. He walks to her slowly and she doesn't go inside and slam the door in his face, but that's about as much as he can say. They're about a foot apart and he thinks for a second that he could just kiss her, smooth things over, because face it, they _are_ hot together. _That's right, just kiss her, make her forget that she's mad._ But he won't. Feelings are a pain in his ass.

She's just staring, a challenging look in her eyes and he realizes that she won't speak first, she's waiting him out. Say something idiot! "Rach. Please. Please come for a ride with me." He tries to make it sound like courtesy, rather than begging. Which it totally is.

She agrees, walks near him (not with him) to the truck. And then she drives him crazy by making polite conversation. A lot of it.

Only half listening, he drives around aimlessly for a few minutes. Yesterday it had all seemed obvious. He had to tell Rachel about the baby. He's not used to thinking in terms of moral absolutes, of right and wrong, but he knows that he doesn't want to lie to her. Maybe she'll understand. _Yeah right, _maybe she'll be gone without a backward glance. Shit, he needs to go somewhere where they can talk. He pulls into the parking lot of the 7-11, and parks at the far end.

"Feeling the need for a slushie Noah?," she asks acidly. Ahhhh, there's his girl.

Unfortunately she continues. "Or possibly you'd like to talk about why you were hiding in the rhododendrons--coincidentally during my conversation with Finn? I know! How about explaining what that text from Quinn was all about?" If busted means _'she's going to murder me with her tiny, tiny, bare hands and then hide my body parts throughout the Midwest_' well then, he's busted. He mumbles something indistinct, but apparently she finds some meaning in it.

"Complicated?, Complicated Noah? Well then explain it to me. Because I know we are the only two people in this vehicle. So tell me, why does it always come back to the four of us--you and me and Finn and Quinn? In case its escaped your notice, I'm doing a pretty rotten impression of someone pining for Finn and you...sometimes I don't even think you like Quinn, much less love her. So go ahead, you're the expert, tell me what's going on here between the two of us...or the four of us." She pauses, but he can't speak, feels like he's been turned into stone. Finally she continues quietly, "And if you can't do that...just take me home."

"Five of us." He feels the blood rushing in his head so hard he can't hear his own voice, so he clears his throat and says it again. "Five of us. You, me, Finn, Quinn and the baby."

He doesn't want to see disgust in her eyes but he can't look away. A series of emotions flit behind her eyes, but they're gone so quickly he can't identify them.

"The baby is yours," she says. It's a statement, but beyond that he can't tell if she's angry or sad or hell, even happy that Finn's off the hook. He turns away from her and leans his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

"How long have you known?" Her voice is remote and he didn't expect that, he thought she'd be screaming at him, calling him names. This is worse.

He should just drive her home. She knows all she needs to know; what explanation is possible beyond the bare fact that he put that baby in Quinn? He's not a girl, or Finn who needs to talk about his _feelings_. So no one is more surprised than he is when the words start pouring out anyway. "Since the beginning. I didn't want to lie. I wanted to take responsibility, take care of the baby, take care of her. She shot me down so fast, my head spun. Said I was nothing but a Lima loser. " His voice thickens, darkens, "She thinks Finn would be a better father for my daughter and fuck...most of the time I think she's right."

"Do you love Quinn?" It's like she's talking about two strangers.

"Love her? Hell, no. You wanted to know what she texted me yesterday? She told me there was some kind of problem with the baby. I left you because I thought she was having a fucking_ miscarriage_ and she was just...I don't know, messing with me or something. But, you know what's really messed up? I almost wish I did love her--at least on that night. If I had been in love with her, waiting for a chance for us to be together, maybe it would all make some sort of sick sense. But there's no stupid movie moment here. Quinn and I screwed up because we were both a little drunk and a little angry...," here he shrugs, "and neither one of us is a very good person."

She doesn't say anything for a long time and he feels a strange peace creep over him as he stares at nothing out the window. Sure, it's the kind of peace that comes after the funeral, but he'll take it. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels her small, cool hand slip into his. He swings around to her, but she's not looking at him, just staring out the window like he had been. But still, there is the fact of her hand in his and he won't, _can't_, question it.

"You aren't a bad person, Noah and I won't hear you say that about yourself." she says and finally he hears the anger but surprisingly it doesn't seem to be aimed at him, but rather for him. "You are thoughtless, infuriating, and you seem to believe that any admission of emotion will be regarded as weakness by the school population in general." He wonders how much longer she can go off on this topic. Probably a long time. "Your approach to the social hierarchies at McKinley is antiquated at best and I have never seen anyone so intelligent put so little effort into schoolwork."

Now she's turned to him, she's looking at him and it's so real it fucking hurts. "But you also can be sweet and I've never seen you back down from anything and no matter how many walls you put up I know that you are a caring person. You're human. You make mistakes. But that doesn't mean you don't deserve to love or be loved."

Well shit. Rachel Berry. Who gave her the keys to his subconscious? Not that she's right. (_You tell yourself that, Puckerman_.) But maybe, just a little, she's on his side. Not on the side of the asshole who slept with his best friend's girlfriend, but the side of the idiot who's sorry about it and wants to man up. Yeah, that one. He needs a friend.

"So what about us?" he asks, because basically he _always_ has to push it (probably, he always will).

"I'm not sure, " she admits, "I need some time to process." This is honest, he knows.

But it's also honest when she keeps his hand in her own and rests her head on his shoulder until its time for him to drive her home.

.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: _In which Rachel processes..._Thanks for all the reviews! Checking my inbox is seriously the best moment of my day! The saddest part of my day is when I realize that I don't own Glee...**

"Sweetheart, no phone at the table, please."

Rachel jumps guiltily at the breakfast table, snapping her cell closed. "Sorry Dad, Daddy, it was just a quick text." Dad smiles and Daddy fluffs her hair affectionately and they both press her to eat more, but Rachel just shakes her head and finishes her orange juice. "I want to get to school a little early today for extra Glee practice."

She feels guilty lying to her dads, but feels that no one's best interest will be served by the disclosure that she wants to get to school to see how her quasi-boyfriend is dealing with his admission that he fathered the child of her ex-crush's significant other. Actually, when she puts it like that, it even makes her wince. So instead she thinks of Noah's dead voice on Saturday night when he told her--something in it close to self-loathing, and then his easy acceptance of rejection. She straightens, sticks up her chin. It's not going to be that way, because she won't let it be.

"Well, it looks like Noah's here to pick you up for practice." Daddy gestures out of the window, and there he is, leaning against the truck's passenger door, hands scrunched up in his pockets. Her heart leaps up in her throat for a minute. Kissing her fathers she grabs her bag and coat and runs out to him, stopping before she reaches him, smiling. He looks at her, searching her face for something and she can see the tension in him release slightly. She puts a hand on his arm and reaches up to brush her lips along his cheek and he blinks at her for a moment and then hugs her tightly.

"I got your text," he says, opening the door.

"The one that said that I'd see you later? That was about two minutes ago!" she teases.

He smiles. "It's later."

She notices that that he keeps sneaking looks at her on the way to school. It's probably because she isn't saying much (she knows that usually she talks a lot), but she's going over the steps of the plan that she spent most of Sunday on. As it turns out, she processes best with a spreadsheet and chart-making software. It's color-coded. They arrive at school and offering her hand, she pulls him unresistingly into the practice room. She wants to tell him that he doesn't have to be alone in this--it's step one in the plan after all. But she's come to recognize that words aren't really his thing and she wants him to believe in this (in her).

She's here almost every morning and she knows they have at least half an hour before anyone comes in, but just in case she turns the lock. He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking at her with an expression that makes her shiver. She walks to him, gently pulls his hands into hers, presses a quick kiss into each palm. He cups one hand to her cheek, brushing her jawbone with his thumb and she leans into him. She slides her hands under his shirt, loving the warmth of his skin and appreciating the hiss of indrawn breath he gives when she lightly runs her fingernails down his side (yes, she'd noticed). It's enough to make him pull her hips flush against him and then she giggles because his hands have moved to her ass. His smile is so wicked her breath catches. Reaching her arms up, her lips move to his shoulder, his neck, and then standing on her toes, the spot behind his ear. She sighs and then pulls away slightly.

"I'm trying to use boy-language here. Is it working?" she asks seriously.

"Mmmmm. Not bad. Try it some more."

So she does.

After a time she regretfully pulls away again, saying "Okay, words now."

He groans. "Why am I not surprised?"

She tilts her head. "Probably because you have an accurate assessment of my personality." Grabbing his arm, she sits in one of the folding chairs, pulling him into the chair next to her, close enough for their knees to touch.

She swallows, smooths her skirts. This is the part that is so likely to go badly wrong. (Query: when did kissing Noah become less intimidating that talking to him?)

"Noah, I like you and I want to be with you." Here she hesitates.

"But?" he says and he's gone remote. He hasn't moved a muscle, but he's pulling away.

"But I can't just forget about what you told me Saturday night, about Quinn and your daughter. I mean I know it now and you can't unknow something like that." She bites her lip, continues softly, "And I know about you."

His jaw clenches, and he turns away from her. "That's crap, Berry." His voice is tight, angry. "Am I your latest project? What is it exactly that you think you know about me?" She's scared, not of him, but because he's one wrong word away from taking off. She looks down at her hands, clenched in her lap.

"I know you love your daughter. I know you hate lying to everyone. I know I want to help you if you'll let me."

Seconds tick by and Rachel hardly breathes. Slowly his head sinks into his hands. Without looking at her he says, "Okay."

"Okay?" Rachel repeats, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah." He takes a sideways glance and says wearily, "But I don't know what the hell you think we can do about it."

She smiles tentatively. "We'll figure it out." (She has some ideas, but he's probably not ready for color coding.)


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this update. It was fun to write. Thanks for** **everything!**

"And Puckerman, you jackass! What the hell did you think you were doing Friday night?" Tanaka's face is turning a redder shade of red while Mike and Matt snicker on the bench behind him. "What have I _always_ tried to teach you boys?" A few voices chorus "Don't get caught, coach." Tanaka paces back and forth. "That's right! Also wear a cup! Now look, Puckerman, I don't know, and frankly I don't care, what had your panties in a twist, but you were lucky that the refs were distracted by that Cheerio skirt malfunction. You could have been out for the season and then we'd have no chance of beating Lincoln. Not that we have any chance of beating Lincoln anyway because you idiots are without question the worst team I've even coached and believe me..."

At this Puck zones out because Tanaka always ends practice with these 'motivational' speeches and they generally continue at length. Behind him Matt and Mike try to fuck with him.

"So Matt, what do you think the chances are that Puck is in a better mood today?"

"I'd say chances are good, Mike."

"And what makes you say that?"

"We had corndogs for lunch and you know how the man loves his corndogs. Always puts him in a good mood. That and being late for practice because he was making out with Rachel at her locker. Uh-huh, that too, probably."

Mike sighs for effect. "Yeah, the knee-socks are hot..."

Puck turns around and smacks Mike on the side of the head. But not hard. Because damn, it's true.

Seated three guys down from him, Finn looks a little sick. Let's face it, Finn isn't exactly a challenging read. Puck would have to be an moron not to realize that Finn_ still_ had a major thing for Rachel. Fuck. Finn had been his best friend since Mrs. Palmer's second grade 'celebrating families' project. Finn had had to explain that his father was dead and Puck had refused to explain that his father was a drunken piece of shit. Since then they'd been inseparable for every sport that could be played, innumerable video game marathons (Finn has freakishly fast reflexes but falls apart on the strategy), and that incredibly crappy band they'd had in 8th grade. He's probably spent as much time at Finn's house as he has at his own. Hell, Mrs. Hudson buys an extra box of Twinkies every week just for him.

And then Quinn. Poor impulse control is a fucking lame excuse for pissing away ten years of friendship.

Not to sound like a girl, but it was going to suck when Finn started hating him. Which was going to happen any minute now. He had recognized that almost immediately--telling Rachel was a game-changer. For most of the fall he had been pushed into a routine. Go to school. _Don't think about the baby._ Got to football practice. _Don't think about the baby._ Go to Glee. _Watch Rachel Berry. (Also don't think about the baby)._ Yeah, it was like hiding a stab wound under a band aid, but now he had a feeling like the band aid was going to come off. It's a totally selfish thought, but at least he isn't alone now. And he feels like an idiot for even thinking this, but sometimes Rachel makes him feel like it might not all turn to shit.

"...or else I'll be sending out your game tapes to every school in the state as an example of what **not** to do!" Puck jumps a little. Tanaka has finally ground to a halt. As he heads to the showers, Finn grabs his arm, pulls him aside for a second.

"So, you and Rachel?" Finn asks, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Yeah, man. Me and Rachel." Puck replies firmly. Sure, he feels guilty about Quinn, but Rachel is not Finn's consolation prize.

Finn nods, turns to leave, but its Puck's turn to grab him. "Hey, no Quinn today. Everything okay?"

Finn looks at him curiously, then shrugs. "She's fine. Just didn't feel up to school."

Bullshit, Puck thinks. But at the same time, he's kind of relieved she's not around because he is still so angry. And although he hates to admit it, kind of worried, because it still doesn't make sense. Quinn's not Rachel's biggest fan (Finn's made sure of that) and she thinks that he's something nasty she's stepped in. That said, he knows that Quinn doesn't really give enough of a shit about either one of them to be that much of a bitch. Looking back, no question, she had been furious about something. So what was it all about?

He's in the parking lot now, waiting for Rachel, who's probably still in the library because, seriously, the girl does _all_ her homework _everyday_. He sends a quick text to tell her to hurry her ass up before his freezes off (he can't wait to hear what she has to say to that). Motion at the end of the of the parking lot catches his eye. It's Quinn. What the hell is she doing at school? As he thinks about approaching her (fuck, what is he going to say?) he sees Mr. Schue's drug-pushing wife come out of school and walk straight up to her. After a minute of tense conversation, Quinn gets into her car and the two of them drive off.

That was bizarre, but he doesn't have time to think about it because two small warm arms wrap around him from behind and then he's busy letting Rachel know that he really didn't mind waiting at all. Once they're in the truck, she makes it up to him anyways and then they pull off onto a side street to kiss a little more. At this rate, they'll never make it home, but he doesn't care, because it's getting pretty hot and he's starting to wonder exactly how serious she's willing to get in a truck.

This time it's his phone that rings. (They have **got** to remember to turn those things off.) His mom is on the line, asking if he's planning on making it home for dinner.

"Yeah, mom. I'm just driving a friend home."

"Not that Santana girl, I hope?"

Puck winces. That introduction might have gone better if San's top had been on. In reality though, probably not. "No mom, not her."

"It _is_ a girl though." Not a question. How the hell does she know these things?

"Uhhmmm, yeah." Here it comes.

"Well then, she must be hungry. I'll expect the two of you in ten minutes."

Right. All that talk about dating a Jewish girl for his mom? Such bullshit. And please, he didn't need God's encouragement to want to get into Rachel's pants. The truth was that he'd been looking for an excuse for a while. Now here's the scary part: the second his mom sees a real live nice Jewish girl in the house, it will be **all** over. (Again: dude, that's a bad thing!)

He turns to Rach. "Hey baby, want to have dinner at my house with my mom and sister?"

His mom is going to_ love_ her. He is in such trouble, but her smile makes it all worth it.

Dinner goes more smoothly than he expected. His mother refrains from taking out the baby pictures and manages not to beg Rachel to marry him. His sister, Sarah, is quiet for once--after he kicks her under the table a few times. Rachel is charming but he can tell she's anxious, so he holds her hand under the table (just to make her feel better). They wash the dishes together and then he grabs her hand again and calls out to his mom, "Rachel and I are going to hang out in my room for a few minutes before I take her home."

"Door OPEN, Noah," she replies. Yeah, where was she three months ago?

He's Puck, so there's no way that he's nervous as she walks around his room, checking out his CDs, strumming a finger along his guitar leaning against the wall. She stops at the bulletin board, smiles at an old Little League photo before turning back towards him. He pulls her to his bed--he's not going to start anything with his mom fifteen feet away, but he wants to hold her. He lays down, she tucks in next to him, rests her head on his shoulder, their hands intertwine.

"Noah?" she turns her head to him and he knows what she's about to say. "I've been thinking," she continues softly. "You really need to talk with Quinn again."

His hand tightens in hers and his eyes narrow. "I know exactly where I'll start, too. I'd like to know exactly what is going on between her and Schuester's crazy wife."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I do so love Matt, Mike and Brittany. **

Mostly, it's lovely. Having dinner with his mom and sister--well maybe she had been a little nervous, but it was all so normal, so much like she'd always pictured having a boyfriend, down to laughing and flicking soap-suds at him as they did the dishes. And then there's the way he seems to be picking her up for school now (if two days in a row means anything that is). And the way he seems to like being close to her. Not just making out, but sometimes his hand stroking her hair absently or sitting at lunch so that their knees are touching or brushing his elbow against hers as they walk together. Leaning, like now, against the locker next to hers with a lazy smile that makes her think about things more appropriate to a bedroom than a school corridor.

Other parts are a little more surreal, she admits to herself.

She smiles at him in return and he squeezes her hand, gives her one last quick kiss. "Time to give my history teacher a thrill. I'll see you at lunch," he says and she bites down on her bottom lip watching him as he walks away. She turns from her locker to go to her own class when she catches something from the corner of her eye and her stomach flips. Some jock (baseball? hockey? not football, anyway) is rapidly closing in with a slushie in hand. In a fraction of a second she tries to remember if she has extra clothes in her locker because oddly enough, it's been a while. Then she braces for the icy impact. Which never happens. Someone grabs her hips and whirls her out of the way. Mike. He does have nice moves! Brittany wraps a protective arm around her shoulders and glares at her attacker and Matt...Matt has him by the collar and is repeatedly shoving him up against the lockers. Violence is never the answer, so Rachel knows that she has to intervene. Eventually.

"Are you blind?" Matt hisses in an undertone. _Bang!_ "Are you stupid?" _Bang!_ "Do you have any idea who she is?" _Bang!_ "Did you see what happened to Reynolds?" _Bang! _"Get the hell out of my sight before I decide to tell Puckerman!" With that, he shoves the boy down the hall and turns to Rachel with a concerned look.

Rachel is too shocked to say anything for a moment but finally manages to choke out, "thanks guys!" Mike and Matt smile and nod and meanwhile Brittany is fussing over her. "Look!" the tall blonde says, "He got a few drops on your blouse! Come with me." She grabs Rachel's hand and starts pulling her down the hall. "I've got a bleach pen in my locker!"

As Brittany rifles through her locker Rachel asks, "Brittany, what was Matt talking about? Didn't Scott Reynolds get hurt when he tripped in the parking lot?" Brittany turns to her with the bleach pen in hand. She's much too nice to say anything, but Rachel reads the expression on her face. Brittany thinks she's a little bit slow.

"Uhhmmm, Rachel. Did you not notice that that happened about three hours after Scott slushied you?" She beams at Rachel and continues as if it were obvious, "Puck beat him up for you!"

So wrong. But hot. No, wrong! "But...that was two weeks ago!"

"So?" asks Brittany.

"Well, I mean Noah and I...we weren't together..."

Brittany looks confused. "I'm not sure that makes a difference with you two." She hands the pen to Rachel and says "Here, you'd better get that stain out before it sets. I'll let your teacher know where you are."

Rachel walks to the bathroom in a daze. Noah has a protective side, she knows and if that jerk _had _slushied her today--well that would have been a huge mistake on his part, that's all. And she knows Noah likes her--he certainly likes to kiss her. But Brittany's words seem to hint at something different, something that doesn't depend on what the exact definition of their relationship is. Something more. Her thoughts fly back to last night, the remembered sensation of lying next to him on his bed. If books and movies and musicals are correct, people feel love in their hearts, but she feels _this_ in her throat, like she _has_ to sing. _Love?_ She shakes her head as she pushed open the bathroom door. Maybe she's just reading too much in to this; he might have just felt like beating somebody up.

She hears Quinn's voice coming from the last stall as she enters. Eavesdropping is reprehensible, but for a moment she's frozen and then the tone of Quinn's voice, defiant but scared, makes her forget.

"Why are you calling me again?...I told you last week, I told you again last night, I've changed my mind!...What are you implying?...I don't care what Finn told you that day!...Well, how would you know?...Oh please, don't even pretend you have any real nursing experience!...I've got to go to class...No wait, please don't!...Now?...Yes...Fine!"

Rachel's shocked brain finally realizes that Quinn is on her cell. And judging from what Rachel has heard, she's in trouble.

Quinn steps out of the stall and her expression turns from anxious to flinty in a heartbeat. "What the fuck do you want, manhands?" she snarls.

Rachel pauses, thinking frantically. She is **not** part of the plan (the color-coded one). Actually, she had played a small role in the first three drafts, (the part where she imagined calling Quinn a heinous bitch was particularly satisfying) but as she thought it through, she had realized that no good purpose would be served by her involvement. Quinn is irritated by the fact that she breathes and the last thing Rachel wants to do is mess things up for Noah. She could just pretend she hadn't heard anything. Turn around and leave Quinn to her own devices.

But Quinn _is_ scared. _And_ in trouble. And Rachel doesn't turn her back on people in need.

She looks down at her feet. Softly, "You could trust him, you know."

Quinn's face crumples a little bit, but her voice is still hard. "Do you honestly think there's anything about Finn that _you_ can tell _me_?"

"Not Finn, N...Puck." (No matter how sorry she feels for Quinn, Rachel won't give her 'Noah'.) "He's a good person and he cares about the baby. He could help you with this."

She pauses and the silence stretches out but Quinn doesn't say or word or give an inch. Rachel takes a trembling breath, the phone call, the atmosphere in this room...something is wrong. She's not entirely sure about this next part, but she takes a chance. "With Mrs. Schuester. I think you know you need his help. You...you just can't do what you did to him on Friday again."

Quinn's eyes soften, get that unfocused look like a newborn and for a second Rachel thinks that she could take just Quinn's hand and hold her while she cries and cries and cries and then all four (five) of them would figure something out. But the moment passes and Quinn stiffens and says flatly, "I don't know what you're talking about." She walks out.

For a minute Rachel sags against the sink, her heartbeat tattooing against her ribs. She tries to convince herself that she's overreacting. Kurt might say that she's just making drama out of nothing--Mercedes definitely would. This is just another example of Quinn being Quinn, she tells herself. She takes several deep, calming breaths. Then without even thinking about it, she flies out of the room.

Shit. Shit. Shit. History. Which one? Finding the right classroom, she smooths her skirt, plasters a fake smile on her face and knocks. The entire classroom is staring at her as she says sweetly, "Mr. Schuester sent me. He says he needs to see Puck immediately." A few students snicker, most likely the ones who have seen Noah with his tongue down her throat, but that can't be helped and Noah's glare effectively silences them. His teacher waves at the door and goes back to grading papers.

He barely waits until the door swings closed behind them. "Rach, what's wrong?" he asks, grabbing her hand.

She tells him what she heard, what she said and it's frustrating, because on the surface there's really not much to it. Or at least not enough to warrant lying to teachers and skipping classes (although this aspect probably worries him less). She doesn't even know for sure if the call was from Mrs. Schuester or what, _if anything_, Quinn was being threatened with and she doesn't think she can make him understand the intensity of it all without making it sound like the last act of Hamlet. He's quiet for so long, she worries. Could it have waited for lunch? Or worse, does he think she should she have turned around without a word and left Quinn in the bathroom?

Finally he nods sharply, pulls out his phone, flips through the contacts. "Straight to voice mail," he says. He pulls her to him, wraps his arms around her, kisses her hard. "I'm going to go look for her. Look Rachel, I need to...," but he stops and kisses her again. "Will you keep your cell on?" he says finally, a little breathlessly.

She hugs him back. "Call me if you need me." He turns and walks purposefully down the hallway and she gets ready to wait while her boyfriend goes to track down the woman carrying his baby.

Undoubtedly surreal. But sometimes that's life.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I don't own Glee. Thanks so much for the reviews and the encouragment!**

Shit, Puck wonders impatiently. Where the fuck is Quinn? And what mess is she cooking up with that head case Schuester is married to? Living with his father for as many years as he did has given Puck a pretty finely tuned sense for when things are going to go to hell and that sense is buzzing right now. No Quinn in class, No Quinn in the music room, no Quinn in the nurse's office (although the nurse does give him a wink). He decides to check Sylvester's office even though since Quinn's been tossed from the Cheerios, it doesn't seem like a very likely refuge.

Again, no Quinn, but Santana emerges, looking triumphant.

"What's the matter Puck, regularly scheduled classes too challenging for you?" she asks mockingly.

"Nice to see you too," he says curtly.

"Congratulate me. You are looking at McKinley High's new head cheerleader."

"Just what you always wanted San. Tell me, how did McKinley's ex-head cheerleader take the news?"

Santana gives him a hard smile. "I saw her head out the gymnasium door half an hour ago. I wouldn't worry though. Quinn does just fine looking out for herself." She leans forward, puts a hand on his forearm. "But I have to admit, it surprises me to see _you _itching to look after her. Does Berry know?"

He shakes her hand off. "Where was she going, Santana?"

Santana looks irritated. "How should I know? Probably just wanted a quiet place to burst into tears again. God those hormones! I don't know how Finn deals with it."

"How do I deal with what?" Finn come up behind them both, a frown between his brows, but Santana just tosses her ponytail, so he continues, "Hey, have you guys seen Quinn? I didn't see her in class, so I came out to look for her."

Shit, does no one _stay_ in class any more? The hall monitors must be smoking weed in the janitor's closet again.

"You've got to be kidding!" Santana bursts out. "Hello, head cheerleader here! Why is everyone looking for Quinn? The girl is pregnant! It's not like she's going to get far..."

"Who else is looking for Quinn?" Finn asks, puzzled.

"Puck is," says Santana, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Why?" asks Finn simply and Santana tilts her head, "Mmmm, good question Finn. I'm sure Puck has a good reason for why he's looking for your baby mama." The emphasis is very slightly on the 'your'. With a malicious smile at Puck, Santana struts off.

Finn's eyes darken and he opens his mouth.

Really? Everyone is going to choose _this _moment to get a clue? The universe fucking hates him. Except there's Rachel...

"Rachel." he blurts out before Finn can say anything. "Rachel said Quinn was upset. She was concerned so she sent me to look for her."

Finn gets that goofy look that he always gets when someone mentions Rachel and Puck suppresses the urge to hit him. "Yeah, that sounds like Rachel, but why isn't she looking for Quinn herself?"

"Dude are you kidding? The apocalypse could go down and Rachel wouldn't skip class." Which, before today he totally would have put money on.

Finn nods, but looks like he's going to say something else when Puck's phone sounds. A text from Rachel: **CAN YOU MEET ME GUIDANCE?** At the same time, the bell for second class rings and students flood the halls, pushing them apart.

"Gotta go, man. We'll talk later," Puck says. Yeah, they can have a heart-to-heart and then Finn can break his nose...he's looking forward to it.

The hallways are beginning to empty again by the time he gets to Pillsbury's office, but he doesn't see Rachel. Her door is closed and the blinds are shut. Rachel's dark head pops out the next door down, (the guidance secretary's office, empty courtesy of Figgins' budget cuts) and she she grabs his arm and yanks him in.

It's dark, but he can see a sliver of light from the connecting door to Pillsbury's office. Rachel looks up at him, all worried and whispers, "I'm not great at waiting, so I thought I'd find Mr. Schue and strike up a casual conversation..."

Puck smiles because Rachel doesn't do casual. But it's cute that she thinks she does.

"...however, there was a substitute in his room. Then, I saw him go into Ms. Pillsbury's office and Noah, he looked just _terrible_, so I just came in here and...uhmmm...Despite my determination to make it as a Broadway star, which may of course require a certain amount of artifice, I don't really have much _experience_ with espionage..."

"Rach, chill. I've got enough to cover both of us. What's he been saying?"

She looks a little sick. "He's just been crying."

Not good. He knows what Rachel means. Despite his bizarre love for Young MC, Mr. Schue is actually a pretty decent guy so Puck kind of feels like a jerk for spying on him. But fuck, this could have something to do with his kid, and if that means being an asshole, so be it. He moves to the door and Rachel moves with him, so he wraps his arm around her waist (he's not sure who's doing the comforting, but he's glad she's there).

Mr. Schuester is hard to hear, harder to understand. "Wouldn't let me touch her...in bed this morning...wanted to be a part of it...she's been faking...never been a baby..."

He can hear Ms. Pillsbury's soft voice, "Will...so very sorry...did you confront..."

"Oh Emma,...huge fight...packed a suitcase...gets worse..."

Puck's sense of when things are about to go badly wrong? It's gone up to eleven. He tightens his arm around Rachel's waist, and reaches out and cracks the door open another inch.

Mr. Schuester's voice carries now. "...I left the bedroom, she was making breakfast. Making breakfast! I tried to tell her that I was leaving. She told me not to be silly, that we can't let these little fights bother us when we are having a baby! Then she started talking about the nursery themes--French Rose or Daisy Garden. Because apparently she's placing an order with fucking Pottery Barn! I just started screaming at her...God Emma, I don't even know what I said. But she just patted my cheek and said that I'd feel better when I was holding my baby. Then she got in her car and left and I don't have idea one about where she is or what she's doing, but honestly she's scaring the shit out of me."

Ms. Pillsbury starts in with some pyscho-babble like 'identity disorder' and 'total break with reality' but Puck isn't paying attention because although she hasn't moved or said a word he can _feel_ Rachel completely freaking out. Then the pieces fall into place and he freaks out too.

That crazy bitch is talking about his kid.

Rachel has her hands on his face, maybe she's whispering his name, but he can't hear it through the rage.

He needs something to focus on, so he closes his eyes and chooses a single memory: the curve of her neck and the sweep of her hair as she leans over her score. He's seen her in that exact position a hundred times before in Glee. Usually she's making notes in her tiny precise handwriting, but when she's not, she chews absently at the end of her pen. She'll read through the words, humming a few notes here and there. If he's sitting close enough, he can hear her sing almost under her breath. She's always completely engrossed, so all those weeks when he wasn't supposed to be looking at her, he could without worrying about catching her eye.

Nice of his subconscious to shake loose a few minor details. First, his timing really sucks (actually, he knew that already). Second, he's in love with Rachel Berry. Not like, not lust although those are there too. Love of the looks on tempests and is never shaken, not sleet, nor snow will keep us from our appointed rounds variety. Or something like that. Something real to hold on to anyway.

Slowly, the world comes back. He opens his eyes and Rachel still has her hands on his face. "It's okay. I'm okay," he tells her, taking her hands in his. "We're going to need some help. Tell Schue what you know. Santana saw Quinn headed out the gym doors, so I'll start there."

**A/N: I can't be the only one to wonder whether Terri is actually crazy instead of just apparently crazy...**

**Happy Thanksgiving to the Americans **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I couldn't remember the name of the store that Terri works for, so sorry in advance for that...**

Rachel is flying through the empty halls, cursing her choice of footwear. Her ballet flats are adorable, but they keep slipping off her heels which is not cutting it. But then she hadn't expected to be chasing after her Glee coach when she got dressed this morning. Mr. Schue is pulling ahead, slamming through the gymnasium doors. He hadn't taken things well. She wishes that she had had the time (or possibly the tact) to break things a little more gently. But there is no good way to tell someone that their unbalanced wife has probably been threatening a pregnant high school student. When she had asked if there was any place that his wife might go--that Quinn might be meeting her, he had barely paused to tell Ms. Pillsbury to send security to the football stadium before taking off. Finally, he's stopped at the edge of the team entrance and is scanning the rows of seats.

"W...What are we doing here?," Rachel asks, breathing hard. The stadium is empty at this time of day, but Rachel can hear Coach Tanaka shouting at his gym class and the marching band must be practicing nearby, because 'Oye Como Va' is filtering in. Everything seems just as usual which only adds to the implausibility of the situation.

Mr. Schue looks at her almost as though he's forgotten who she is. "Terri...Terri loves this place. Best moment of her life, being a Cheerio. Her goddamn _**uniform**_ is still in our closet." His hand passed over his face as if erasing a memory. "Oh shit, no..." he breathes as he stares up and over her shoulder. Rachel spins around and follows his gaze.

At the far end of the stands, all the way to the top row sits Terri Schuester. Quinn is lying motionless on the bleachers with her head in Terri's lap. Her body looks wrong, sprawled out with one leg pulled up and the other hanging a little over the edge. Terri is looking down at Quinn, stroking her hair tenderly. About ten rows down from the two, Noah and Finn stand together, still, but tension screaming in the way they are carrying their bodies.

Mr. Schuester lunges forward, but Rachel clamps her hand down on his arm. "Slowly," she says quietly although she has no idea how she is going to follow her own advice. She can't bear to look at Quinn, so she focuses on Noah almost blindly, stumbling once, but Mr. Schuester catches her elbow. 'Breathe!' Rachel tells herself fiercely as they close in on the boys who are still frozen in place. Puck turns his head slightly, sees the two of him. He looks pissed to see her. Fair enough. She's not thrilled to see him under these circumstances either.

Finally on the seat next to Terri, she can see the reason the boys aren't advancing. She's never seen a real one before. Certainly, her dads would never have one in the house. It's smaller than she would have expected, it looks almost like the toy water pistols she sees her small neighbors play with, but those are brightly colored and this one is a dull black. Ridiculous, but threatening.

Terri looks up. "Will!" she says as if it were a pleasant surprise.

Mr. Schuester looks stunned. "Terri, what have you done to Quinn?" he asks, voice cracking.

"Nothing!" says Terri, frowning. "I'm just looking out for our little girl, Will." At this Mr. Schuester sits heavily into one of the seats, gripping the edge to steady himself. Honestly, Rachel had hoped for more from the one functioning adult in the group.

Terri looks down at Quinn again. "She's just...sleeping. I gave her something to help her sleep. She didn't want to take it at first, but I made her, just like I made her take the prenatal vitamins." She leans over Quinn and places a hand on her bump.

Finn growls and Puck puts a hand on his arm. It's enough to draw Terri's attention to the boys. "Are you the father?" she asks, looking directly at Puck.

"I am," says Finn tightly.

Terri purses her lips. "Oh sweetie...remember when you asked me in the nurses' office whether a girl could get pregnant in a hot tub and I told you that school nurses see it all the time?" She doesn't finish but it's enough for Finn. He shakes Puck's hand off and mutters, "You fucker, I'm going to kill you." Puck replies softly, "Yeah. Absolutely. Just not now."

Rachel hears movement from behind her. Ms. Pillsbury, Principal Figgins and a security guard are at the bottom of the stands, the guard is calling something in on a radio. Rachel knows that she should be relieved to see the cavalry arrive, but there are already too many people here.

As Terri notices the newcomers, the uneasy balance starts to slip. Her eyes widen, her hand tightens on Quinn and for the first time, she looks at the gun.

"Yeah, I'm the dad, what do you want to know?" Puck asks loudly, pulling Terri's attention away from both the newcomers and the weapon. Rachel could cheer, but she hears multiple sirens in the distance; how much time do they have? Terri stares at Puck and her eyes narrow. "You. You're the one who wants her to keep _our_ baby. How can you be so stupid?" Again, she looks at the gun.

So on the upside, thinks Rachel, Terri is not noticing the two uniformed police officers currently arriving at the stadium. On the downside, her focus on Noah is just as dangerous. The situation is delicate and requires someone who is not perceived as a threat.

She steps forward up on to the next riser. "Rachel," Mr. Schuester hisses, "what the hell are you doing?" but she's already out of his reach. Terri's eyes snap to her. "Hi, Mrs. Schuester, it's Rachel. Rachel Berry." She takes another step up, and another after that, inwardly pleased that her legs aren't shaking. "You remember me from Glee, right?" She smiles at Terri, keeping eye contact. She's almost level with the boys now. She'd like to alter her path just enough to brush past Noah, to feel a little bit of his warmth, but she calculates that she can't take the risk, he won't chance any big movements in her direction, but if she gets close enough to him, he probably won't hesitate to try and stop her.

"Rachel?" Terri asks, puzzled and Rachel nods encouragingly. "Mrs. Schuester, I wanted to ask you about thread counts. You're a manager at _Bedrooms 'n Things_ right? Well, my father has very sensitive skin, so I was wondering if you could recommend anything in sheets above 600 threads per inch?"

"Rach...." Puck's voice is hoarse. Not now. Terri is actually smiling back at her a little. Rachel inches a little closer to Terri and continues, "What about Egyptian cotton? Or do you think organically grown, naturally dyed cotton is better?" She slips into the seat in front of them, eyes on Terri, ignoring Quinn.

"No..." says Terri slowly, peering at Rachel.

Uniformed officers are moving into position several sections away on either side of them. "Not organic cotton?" asks Rachel, trying to keep her voice steady.

"No. Ralph Lauren. Matching accessories."

"That sounds great. Can you show me?" Rachel reaches out her hand and touches the back of Terri's hand. Terri looks doubtfully at Quinn, and Rachel looks too, relieved to see the rise and fall of Quinn's chest. She hadn't been sure. "She'll be fine. Sleep is good for people." She takes Terri's hand, pulls gently.

"Babies too." says Terri matter-of-factly.

"Yes," replies Rachel weakly. Terri gently lays Quinn's head down on the metal seat and Rachel leads her away from Quinn, away from the gun, past the boys. She sneaks a look back, Finn is next to Quinn, lifting her into his arms, but Noah is staring at her, so she gives him what is meant to be a reassuring smile. As she reaches Mr. Schuester, he falls in step with the two of them.

At the bottom of the risers waiting to meet them Rachel sees what she can only assume is either a plain clothes officer or hopefully a qualified mental health professional. Mr. Schuester says with a voice that carries, "Here's Rachel's dad. We'll go together with him to find the right sheets. Rachel really should be getting back to class." He pushes Rachel gently to a seat in the bottom row. The other man nods and he and Mr. Schuester continue to lead her down the bleachers, around the corner and out of sight.

Rachel just sits bonelessly in her seat. She thinks she'll never move again, but suddenly there's Noah, with his arms around her, his lips on her hair, her eyes, and finally her mouth. Policemen swarm around in the background, she hears Finn carrying Quinn down the steps beside them, Ms Pillsbury's soft voice to them, urgent then fading.

Eventually, he stops and glares at her. "Don't ever do anything like that again," and kisses her a few more times, just to send the message home.

As soon as she has an opportunity, she smiles shakily up at him. She knows her heart is in her eyes--she thinks that his is too. "I feel that I can safely promise that," she says.

"Puck, Rachel..." Ms. Pillsbury is back. "The paramedics are loading Quinn into the ambulance right now. Finn is going with her. Puck, do you want me to...would you like a ride to the hospital?"

His hand closes on hers tightly and he looks at her with panic in his eyes. She nods, stands up and speaks. "Both of us please, Ms. Pillsbury."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So this it--final chapter. I just wanted to thank everyone who has taken the trouble to read, alert, favorite and _especially_ review this work. I loved writing it, would have loved writing it if it had continued as it started--multiple unorganized scraps of paper! But to have real live people read, and mostly like and always encourage...well again,** **thank you because it's meant a lot to me.**

**Even after all this work, Glee does not belong to me...**

Ms. Pillsbury drops them off near the emergency room entrance and drives off to the parking garage. He's standing as close to Rachel as possible, hasn't let her out of his sight since the stadium. Fuck. He's seriously thinking of handcuffing her to him, just so she never has the opportunity to do anything that stupid ever again (it takes him at least three minutes to start thinking of all the other things he'd like to do with Rachel and handcuffs, which shows personal growth he thinks). At some moment in time, he may have to be separated from her--like, she may need to go to the bathroom or something and want some privacy, but outside of that, no, he's just** not** letting go.

As they round the corner to the entrance, he sees Finn, all pulled in on himself, leaning against the building, waiting. Good thinking Hudson. Better to take care of this outside.

Finn spots them, and launches himself off the brick wall, storming towards them. Puck stops in his tracks, waiting. He angles his body so that Rachel is tucked behind him, but doesn't bother asking her to leave. After today, it is safe to say that that would be a waste of breath.

"I really would prefer it if he didn't hit you, " mutters Rachel darkly.

"I know, baby." But they both know that the fastest way into the emergency room is most likely through Hudson's fist.

He's waiting for it--face it, he's been waiting for it for weeks, but it still hurts like a motherfucker. Son of a bitch. Unbelievable. Finn has actually broken his nose. He gingerly brings his hand up to his face and it comes away bloody. Behind him Rachel squeaks. He loves this girl; crazy women with guns, no problem, but a bloody nose freaks her out. Happily, Finn seems to be ignoring her completely.

"You asshole! You lying piece of shit!" Finn's voice has risen at least an octave and his eyes are red-rimmed. "This is all your fault!"

He's not sure if Finn means the hook-up, the pregnancy or the fucked-up mess with Schuester's wife. Maybe all three. Doesn't really matter because although there's plenty of blame to go around, and maybe at some point Finn will be able to hear that, right now it's not going to get him anywhere. He looks at Finn. He's breathing hard and his fists are still clenched, but he doesn't looks like he wants to throw another punch immediately.

"Yeah, you're right. I really fucked up." He's being as real as he can be and for just a second he sees seven year old Finn, smiling without his two front teeth but already with that essential sincerity. His best friend. "I'm sorry."

It doesn't seem to do much to appease Finn, but on the other hand, every second that Finn's not trying to kill him is probably progress. Or not. Finn is looking at him like he hates him and his voice is quiet and cold as ice. "Save your apology for someone who cares. Her pulse was so weak...her heart almost _stopped_ in that ambulance. She almost _died_, you _prick. _And god only knows about the..." he remembers, stops, looks almost sorry for a second.

Behind him, Rachel fists his shirt. He feels her lay her head against his back and he lets out the breath he's holding. "Are we done here?" he asks flatly.

"For now." Finn says, still coldly.

"Good." He starts towards the doors, feels Rachel's slight hesitation and sighs. He'll try again. "Are you coming in or not?" Not great, but it's all he's got. Finn glares, stands irresolutely, and finally follows the two of them into the waiting room.

The admissions people take one look at his bloody face and try to admit him, but he just ignores them. Rachel does manage to acquire some antiseptic wipes and an icepack and she cleans him up a bit (fuck, it hurts). She offers to get him some coffee, but he just grabs her hand again and leans into her a little bit, breathing in the scent of her perfume, her hair.

When Ms. Pillsbury arrives, she chooses not to mention either his injuries or the fact that Finn is sitting as far away from them as possible.

They wait.

He expects to see Quinn's parents rushing in. They don't. Ms. Pillsbury goes to the desk every fifteen minutes to see if there is an update and then reports back what she's found out which is _nothing_ except Quinn is stable. He notices that she alternates between the two of them. Is there a pamphlet for that? Maybe _'What to do when the Daddy isn't the Daddy_.' Shit. He shouldn't make fun of her. She's sitting in a room full of sick people for them.

Two hours pass this way and he's about to lose it. He's about to hit something. He's about to leap over the admittance desk and go shake up a doctor or two until they tell him something. He closes his eyes and counts to 10...20...30...

"Noah..." Rachel pulls him up and across the room. A nurse has come out from behind the desk and is talking to Ms. Pillsbury. Finn joins them, carefully avoiding eye contact. Ms. Pillsbury nods at the nurse and says to them, "Quinn is awake. She's asked to see me. I'll be back as soon as I can." She accompanies the nurse through the locked doors.

It doesn't take long. Moments like this are supposed to stretch out; it should seem a like a lifetime spent focusing on the door Ms. Pillsbury disappeared behind. But it's an instant, a blink, a heartbeat before she comes back with pity in her eyes for him, for Finn, even for Rachel. His daughter is gone. There are other words, like _days for_ _observation_, and _no visitors at this time_, but he doesn't listen. He looks blankly at Finn, collapsed into a seat, head buried in his hands, crying. Rachel's crying too, Ms. Pillsbury is in tears. The whole fucking world is sobbing except for him.

For a moment he blames himself, remembering Rachel's fingers on Terri Schuester's hand, his own silent prayer: not Rachel...not Rachel. Was this the trade off? Not Rachel, but someone else? But he lets it go, lets that bitterness dissolve and wash away, because that's the understanding of a child (he sees _himself_ at seven, trying to make bargains with God through a busted lip). Puck doesn't think he'll ever be a child again.

He's done.

Later he learns that Ms. Pillsbury drove the three of them home in what would have been the most awkward 20 minutes of his life, only he can't remember it. Rachel must have gotten out with him, certainly he is sitting at his own kitchen table when she makes him a sandwich he can't eat. He doesn't remember going into his room, but then there is Rachel gently drawing him into his bed, pulling the covers over them both, holding him when he at last lets go, not slipping away even when they hear his mother's shaky call from the door.

*****

Three weeks later, he is walking side by side with Quinn along the path, their feet crunching through the last of the fallen leaves.

"How are you feeling?" he asks awkwardly. He mostly knows the answer, Rachel has become the accepted go-between between the three of them.

"Better," she says, but she doesn't sound better, mostly just empty. He gets that.

"Things at home?"

"What can I say?" she says a little bitterly, "They're a lot more understanding about a nice quiet miscarriage than they would have been about a big public pregnancy."

"I'm sorry, Quinn."

"I know."

They stop together, look down at the tiny headstone. He wraps one arm around her, squeezes briefly. She leans into him for a moment and then pulls away.

"Look Puck, I've been wanting to tell you something. I'm really sorry too. About how I put **all** the blame on you for that night, the baby, _everything_." She pauses and he thinks maybe she's done, but she continues distantly (and he's finally figured out that when she's most distant, she means it the most). "I only blamed you for everything because I knew you'd **let **me. I'd tell you to work on that, but I think you already are." She gestures to the bench by the cemetery gates where Rachel and Finn are waiting. Seeing them look, Rachel waves and Finn nods.

"Yeah, I am," he says and they retrace their steps back to the pair. Finn takes Quinn's hand and leads her away. Finn still isn't speaking to him, but Rachel thinks he will soon and she _always_ gets what she wants (he's smart enough to be profoundly grateful for that). Rachel presses her small body tightly against him while he envelopes her in a hug. It's amazingly comforting--also a little erotic, because hey, the last time he looked he was still seventeen, and he presses his lips against her hair.

"I love you," she says, her voice muffled by his shoulder. It's not the first (or the second, or the third...) time she's said it in the last three weeks, but it still gives him an unlooked for thrill.

"I love you, too." he says and it comes out the way it always does for her, like a kiss, like a poem, like a song.

_**The End**_


End file.
